


Buffet

by skybean



Series: No Jury Will Convict Us [3]
Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, Nightmares, Nonbinary Alma Karma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-15
Updated: 2017-09-15
Packaged: 2018-12-29 23:42:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12095997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skybean/pseuds/skybean
Summary: Alma has a nightmare.  Kanda comforts them.





	Buffet

**Author's Note:**

> My shipping partner on my rp blog requested something from the "yulma buffet" so hence the title. Here u go ori.

Was it a knock that had woken him? Kanda almost turns back over to his sleep, for his internal clock tells him that it's not quite four am. Just as he approaches that border of awake and sleep, where dreams feel more tangible than dreams, the knock comes again. And again. And again.

 _Ratatat. Ratatat._ Silence, then again. _Ratatatat. Ratatatat._

Irritably, he crawls out of bed, not even bothering with putting his hair up, to open the door. _Whoever it is better have a good excuse_. Agitation has crept into his thoughts. So he forces his mind to calm, a glassy lake before a falling leaf leaves ripples. The door opens, finally, and Kanda opens his mouth to snap--

His mouth closes. A shirtless Alma is his early morning visitor.

Alma looks like shit. Not that Kanda says that out loud; it's rare that Alma has escaped his CROW guards, but Alma looks far from the agitated that their mental state usually is. No, Alma looks terrified, eyes widened, pupils dilated—skin that's normally the shade of a corpse leaving those same corpses looking tan. Colourful Akuma markings seem to have faded into the white of Alma's skin.

“Yuu?” Their voice is hoarse, as if Alma has been screaming, and doing nothing but. “You—you're—”

Kanda can't find it in him to be agitated. He gestures for Alma to come inside his room, to calm down—because whatever had left Alma so full of fear was something that needed to be addressed—and now.

Alma does as they're gestured to do. Alma's gaze darts around the room, absorbing as many details of the room as possible—trying to ground themselves in the here and now. Kanda would know; Kanda introduced Alma to that tactic, as a way to help Alma focus past the emotions that left Alma often reeling, unable to handle themselves at the worst of times.

“You came for a reason.” Finally, silence is broken.

“...”

“Alma.” Any roughness leaves Kanda's voice. “Is it okay if I touch you right now?” Asking permission. Alma, for so long, had nobody respecting Alma's bodily autonomy. Alma was _used_ , treated as little more than a plaything for others. Kanda wanted Alma to feel like Alma had some sort of control over themselves, even if it was a matter of _no, I do not wish to be touched._

“No.”

A concerning answer. Normally, Alma would consent to touch, even if it was only a touch on the arm. However, Kanda respects those boundaries that Alma has established—right now, Alma does not wish to be touched.

“You can sit somewhere, if you like.” Kanda says softly. His voice remains at a low, a steady calm, to help keep Alma feeling calm.

When Alma is like this, Kanda and Alma established before, it is okay to not reply. It went back to that _matter of control_ , for Alma to feel like they had control over something. So Kanda is talking, but not expecting an answer.

Alma sits on Kanda's bed, all curled up, their tail protectively around them. Kanda pulls a chair up and sits across from Alma, ready to sit in silence, until Alma wanted to do anything otherwise.

“...I had a bad dream,” confesses Alma, who sounds much like a child ashamed. Sometimes, Kanda has to remember Alma _can_ be a young child, because Alma had never really gotten that life experience Kanda has.

It's moments like these, where Alma is sitting on his bed, trying to not cry, that very much remind Kanda that Alma missed on so much, in Alma's own growth. But Kanda nods, he murmurs softly, “Would you like to talk about it?”

Alma sniffles and nods.

“I—I had a dream where I killed you.”

This is nothing new. This is not the first time it's brought Alma to Kanda's door in the middle of the early morning, wanting to be near Kanda. This is the first time it's brought out such a strong reaction in Alma, that it concerns Kanda more than Kanda lets on. Alma will talk when they are ready.

“It wasn't the usual dream, either.”

That explains Alma's reaction.

Alma inhales nervously. Kanda quickly says, “You don't have to explain if you don't want to.”

“But I want to.”

Alma inhales once more, closing their eyes. “In my dream, we're not children. We're in our current bodies. It starts out like... Like how we met again.” Alma swallows, pulling their knees to their chest, as if they're trying to shut the dream out of themselves, as if they're combating fears Kanda knows not.

Alma is combating fears Kanda knows not.

“But this time, I have the upper hand,” continues Alma, “so you're screaming. I can feel your body under my nails and in my hair, and in my teeth. I'm laughing. The Earl tells—no, _orders_ me to kill you. And I took great pleasure in it.”

Shakily, Alma's hands pull on their hair. “I tear you apart, limb by limb. Your body isn't healing faster than I can tear. I don't use Dark Matter to kill you, only my fingers and my teeth. I—I woke up in a cold sweat, reminded of just how much of a _weapon_ I still am.”

“You are not a weapon.” Kanda says softly. He can understand why this dream disturbed Alma so. It could have happened, it wasn't a flashback, something that Kanda could murmur away with being held, being reminded that it had happened, it was over, Alma was real and not dying. That Kanda was real, and neither of them were dying.

“You are a person. You have your own thoughts, your own feelings—you are not being controlled by anybody. Nobody in this moment can, or will, make you do anything you do not wish to do, Alma.”

Alma sniffles. Hesitantly, Alma's tail unravels around Alma, flicking back and forth, before Alma asks, voice quivering, “Ma—may I touch you?”

“Of course.” Kanda says softly.

Alma's tail snakes around, slowly wrapping around Kanda in a reassuring hug. Alma sniffles once more, content to hold Kanda like that for a bit, before Alma asks, “May I touch you more?”

As if Kanda would deny Alma. Kanda slowly stands, answering Alma's question with a question of his own, “Would you like a hug?”

“...Can I stay the night next to you?” Not quite an answer that vocalises what Alma wants. Kanda is hesitant to touch Alma without explicit consent, especially in moments like these.

“Of course you may.” Kanda says nonetheless. “Would you like to be held?”

“Yes.” Alma looks down, as if ashamed of admitting to it.

Kanda smiles, a rare thing, an intimate thing, only for Alma. Slowly, he and Alma approach the bed. Alma's arms release Kanda, but their tail remains touching him the entire time, as if Alma's afraid that if they let go, Kanda will be gone.

Kanda has no doubt that in Alma's fragile state, they believe that. Kanda is not about to protest, not when this small gesture is aiding Alma.

As the two lay down in bed, Kanda wraps his arms gently around Alma, holding them close. Kanda's slowly rubbing soothing circles into Alma's back, and Alma begins to cry, in full force.

“It's okay to cry,” Kanda says reassuringly, rather than try to shush Alma. He doesn't want to make Alma feel guilty for expressing any emotion. “It sounded like something you've been afraid of happening for a long time. It's okay to be scared of something like that.”

“I feel so _foolish_ for being afraid of it.” Alma hiccups through their tears, burying their face in Kanda's chest. “It's just a dream. It was only a dream.”

“It's not just a dream if it alarmed you.” Kanda slowly ran a hand through Alma's hair. “Even if it was a dream, it's something that made you feel afraid—so afraid you came to me.”

“I just... I wanted to make sure you were alive.” Alma confesseds sniffling now. “It... It all felt so real, that when I awoke, it felt like this life was nothing more than a dream I had dreamed up to make myself feel better. It felt _so real_ , Yuu. Like nothing in this world could have been more real than it.”

Kanda finds himself himself wishing he could do more for Alma, in this moment. He doesn't say that out loud, though; instead, he focuses on what he can fix. “I am here. I am real. Even if the dream felt real, I promise you, it was only a dream. A dream you can be scared of, be frightened of, because that is the kind of dream that is something that is frightening. I'd be frightened, if I had the same dream you did.”

There are nights where Kanda has waken up in a cold sweat from dreams where Alma has killed him.

Alma nods in a reassured manner. Their tail grips Kanda a bit tighter, their arms around Kanda as well, before Alma gently murmurs, “Is it alright if I go to sleep again?”

“Yes, of course.” Kanda replies.

Alma doesn't wake up of any other nightmares that night.

 


End file.
